Places of Magic
by The Dead Fish
Summary: Some setting practice.
1. Ollivander's

As he entered the shop, no one was there. The silence was striking after the rustle of the street. It made the room seem larger than it was, like a cathedral – a cathedral of wands.

Or, from the way they lined the walls and shelves, maybe an ossuary.

About half an hour later, Ollivander, who had appeared, pale-eyed, as if out of nowhere, and patiently handed him one wand after the other, finally said "Yew, thirteen and a half inches, with a core of phoenix feather," and gave him another one.

It felt immediately warm to the touch. It was his.

"Well, well," Ollivander said. "A powerful wand. You will perform great magic with it, I have no doubt."


	2. Flourish & Blotts

Books.

They were everywhere. They were on the shelves, the windowsills, the few chairs, along the twisted corridors. Tens, hundreds, thousands of books.

Books that seemed to live, to breathe, to whisper secrets. Books in cages. Books she had never even heard of – just like no one she knew had. Books written by people that now only lived in portraits, but did live there. There was paperdust in the air and the irresistible smell of parchment and ink.

She could have spent hours wandering through this shop. If she'd have had the money, she would have bought a copy of every single book in there. Books about spells, potions, a history she never knew existed.

Books that held the solution to all problems a muggle girl could face. They were about magic, after all, weren't they? And magic was all about solving problems. Or put another way, the wizarding world couldn't have the problems the muggle world, the world Hermione had known all her life, had, could it?

What would be the point of magic otherwise?


	3. The Forbidden Forest

In the deepest places of the forest, the darkness was almost constant. The greyish-green leaves of the trees kept the sunlight out and let the most dangerous creatures, the ones because of which the forest was forbidden, brood forever in the shadows. The air bore their scent and kept all the good creatures, creatures of the light and even creatures of the night that came and went and came again, away from those places.

Sometimes, something would rustle in the undergrowth.

Sometimes, a pair of cold, pitiless eyes would gaze at you, and you would run for the light.


	4. Honeydukes

"How can you _not_ like those? They're fun!"

"I've once had one that tasted like-"

"I don't even wanna know. Sugar quill, then?"

Honeydukes was buzzing with voices – as it always had, on every single Hogsmeade weekend. Everybody loved sweets, so no one would miss a chance to visit this sugar-infested paradise. It seemed just breathing in the shop could cover your daily requirement of sugar. The colours on the shelves were a rainbow of sweet and sour, from screaming pink or bright orange to soft purple and bland blues.

"Have you tried those?"

"No, but have one of these, they're delicious…"

And yet, amongst all the sugar, there were a million different flavours, each exciting and new or – and those were the most popular of all the sweets – strangely familiar, as if from a distant childhood memory. As if recalling a life, a world, a dream one once had but left behind in growing up.


	5. Gringotts

It was rare that someone came here, deep beneath the bright and noisy surface bursting with life. The darkness was complete, unless some goblin brought a little lantern down – or a dragon breathed a flare to remember he was a dragon.

The sound of water dripping down the stone walls was the only thing that could be heard, unless something, one of the involuntary guards or something that felt at home here, moved across the rocks.

It was a cold and lonely place: a desolate place to die.

That was why no one tried to rob the bank: no one wanted to die alone. Not here.


	6. Hall of Prophecies

The silence in this place was almost audible. It felt like it covered you, upon entering, with a thick velvet blanket.

All the voices, voices of the centuries, of the dead, of the living, of the wise, of the lucky charlatans, all the voices of the seers were locked into little glass balls, like large marbles a child would play with.

No one ever came to hear them. Few knew they existed. Knowing the future was a desire as old as mankind – but no one who ever heard about it liked what they heard.

So the voices were put away safely, and the silence remained.


	7. The Burrow

Now, this was a place to come home to.

A wonderfully crowded, chaotic place full of little, everyday mysteries – and filled with magic. It had seen the coming of age of six wizards and a witch, each finding their way in the world, each of them unique and distinct but eventually, a member of the family. It had seen so many stories, not the great adventures, but the little, everyday stories, romance and tragedy and comedy and all mixed together.

Maybe, after all, they were the greatest adventures of all.

As the children moved out, one by one, it became quieter and quieter, until it felt almost empty.


End file.
